Know Your Target
by Destiny JoRayne Adams
Summary: WHN for "My Brother's Keeper."  Adam's thinking of leaving.  What does Joe think? Formerly known as "A Brother's Guilt."


_Guilt is a powerful emotion  
It's always there  
Ready to grab you at a moment's noticed  
It doesn't matter if you're not to blame  
You will always feel its twinge_

_

Adam stared into the deep darkness of the night. From inside the house, he could hear Hoss and Joe challenging each other over the checker board, and he knew that Joe was probably cheating again. It had been a tradition for years; the family sitting around the fire, in the evenings after supper. But it had become more of a habit, for him to spend his evenings away from the family in the cool, summer nights.

The actions of that day haunted him. Every night, the moment he closed his eyes, he was flung back by the rock. His hands were holding the gun steady and his finger inching toward the trigger. He could see Joe grab his shoulder, as the bullet rammed into the toughened flesh. He could hear Joe's grunt of pain and the thud, as his body hit the dirt. He could taste the fear that he felt, as he saw the wolf take hold of Joe, ripping into his flesh. The fear was there even to this day; the fear, the anguish, and the guilt.

He had ignored the basic rule of handling a gun. Know your target before you shoot. As a result of his error, his brother suffered. If only he had insisted that they give up the hunt. If only he had laid down the law, and told Joe it was time to get home. If only he had gone with Joe when he left the camp, instead of staying and enjoying his cup of coffee. If only he had looked for his target before he shot. If only he had made sure his brother wasn't in the area. He had been second guessing his actions for months. He had replayed the scene over and over again, picking out the places where he could have done something differently, and saved the whole family the agony in the months that followed.

He had shot his brother, his youngest brother. There were three people who were more important to him then the whole world. Pa. Hoss. Joe. Nobody meant more to him than his family.

Over the years of his life, he had realized that he could depend on nobody, more then his family. They were always there, supporting him, letting him know that they had his back when circumstances went bad. He trusted in their love and respect. Trusted the relationship that he shared with each one. But most importantly, he trusted them.

His father was the one that he talked to about the ranch. He was the one that understood the numbers that had to be added or subtracted, multiplied or divided. Though his brothers could handle the more business side of the ranch if needed, they rarely did. He talked with his father for hours about the ranch, about which contracts to enter into, what was going on in the North pasture and whether or not to move the cattle for the winter, or let them stay where they were. Even though the ranch was often the topic of their conversations, Adam knew that he could go to his father with anything that was on his mind, no matter what the time or what his father was busy with. Ben always put his sons above everything in his life.

His brother Hoss was his gentle brother. People often assumed that he lacked intelligence because of his size. Nothing could be farther then the truth. Hoss was wise beyond his years; he often noticed things that both Adam and Joe didn't.

Nature was Hoss' best friend; he was the best tracker Adam had ever known.

He had always had a soft spot for animals of any kind. Adam could trust Hoss with anything, from problems with a friend, to a special woman he was interested in.

His thoughts turned to his youngest brother. Of all the words in the English language, only a few could be used to describe Little Joe. He was irrational, illogical, he never thought before he acted, but over all, Adam wouldn't change a thing about him. Joe had always worn his heart on his sleeve. He was loyal above all else to those he loved. If any of them had ever doubted his love for his family, he was always there reminding them. He would never hesitate to jump right into danger to play hero, if he thought he was helping his Pa and brothers. Joe had always been a hero in Adam's eyes; he was just never sure how to let him know that.

However, it was Joe's impulsiveness and stubbornness that often put him at odds with his oldest brother. Adam had watched Joe jump into danger so many times. He had sat, at what could have been his brother's death bed, over and over, and yet, Joe always managed to pull through. His father joked that it was the Cartwright charm working for him, and sometimes Adam wondered if his father wasn't far off from the truth.

This last time Joe had graced the death bed had been Adam's own fault, and he hated himself for it. Since the shooting, Adam's thoughts strayed more and more often toward the East. Years earlier, Adam had spent four years in Boston going to college. At first, it had been awkward and difficult. He'd tried to fit into a strange civilized culture, after living in the West for most of his life. But then he began to enjoy it. The Eastern culture was quiet and sophisticated, so different from the wild and untamed West.

The consideration of returning to that culture began to consume his thoughts. He had begun to think that maybe it was better if he went East. After all, he couldn't hurt his family if he was across the country. In some part of his mind, he knew that he wasn't thinking logically at all; and in truth, it didn't bother him as much as it should. He had always prided himself in being logical. But he had changed a lot recently, and suddenly logic just didn't matter anymore.

Suddenly, Adam felt a hand on his shoulder, and his right hand instinctively snaked toward his gun. He let out a breath when he realized who it was. He hated the action that his body automatically took, when being threatened. A hand always prepared to reach for a gun, another ugly reminder of the culture in which he lived.

Hoss ignored his brother's reaction, knowing that his would have been the same. He didn't remove his hand, knowing that his usually stoic brother, needed the physical contact to remind him that even though he blamed himself for the shooting, the rest of the family didn't.  
Neither brother spoke for a while, allowing the silence to wrap around them. Hoss had watched his family trying to regain their footing, after a tragedy that had almost led Joe to his death. Since Adam had accidentally shot Joe on a hunt for a wolf that was pilfering the Cartwrights' stock, the family was working on regaining their balance.

Everybody had heard Adam's comments on returning to the East, to "civilized people." What Adam failed to notice was the gleam in Joe's eye, and the tightening of his jaw, whenever the subject was discussed.

Hoss finally broke the silence. "He's hurtin', ya know."

Adam whipped around, to face his brother in surprise. He knew who Hoss was talking about, but it was the tone of his voice that caught his attention. It was a tone filled with desperation; a kind that one very rarely saw in the normal easy-going man. It was the tone that told Adam that his brother wasn't talking about the physical pain of healing, that Joe was obviously suffering. People didn't recover from gunshot wounds overnight. Even so, Joe had never been one to lie sick in bed. The Cartwrights knew that as soon as Joe was able, the first thing he would utter was "I'm fine." It never mattered that he didn't have the strength to lift his head, much less walk or work; he was always "fine".

"He knows yer gonna to leave." Hoss continued. "You haven't said one way or the other, but whenever ya get an idea in that head of yers, ya never forget it. And if yer really honest with yerself, ya know that yer gonna leave too." Hoss paused, then went on, his voice more gentle. "Ya think yer doin' Little Joe a favor, that yer leavin' will keep him safe? What ya don't know is that when ya go, he's never gonna see it thet way. He's gonna think that you left 'cause you were mad at him."

"Why would I be mad at him?" Adam asked bitterly. "If anything, he should be angry at me. I'm the one who shot him."

"It was an accident."

Adam knew that words were spoken for his benefit, but he was tired of them. He had heard the same words enough times in the last few months, to last him a lifetime.

He pierced his brother's eyes with his own. "It doesn't matter that it was an accident. It doesn't matter that I didn't try to pull that trigger. What matters is that I did. I ignored everything that has ever been taught to me, everything that Pa taught me about a gun, I ignored it, I didn't listen to it. As a result, I ended up shooting my brother." The words started soft, but Adam's voice rose in rarely displayed emotions. "I almost killed him, Hoss. I almost killed my brother. I can't deal with that." Adam broke his gaze from Hoss, and turned and walked toward the barn.

Hoss stared after Adam for a moment, before turning back to the house. He must have shut the door with more force then he intended, for Pa and Joe both looked at him. Pa soon went back to the book he was reading, but Joe's gaze never left his brother's.  
Joe was tired of the whole matter. He held no ill feelings toward his brother at all; in his mind it was Adam that saved his life. It had been his eldest brother who had killed the wolf. It had been Adam that had gotten him home. It had also been Adam who had gotten the bullet out of his shoulder and had worked so hard to keep to keep him alive.

For the past two months, he had heard his brother talking about the East. Talking about some place where the men didn't wear guns to protect themselves, or had the newest style of dress. He talked of Gentlemen and Ladies, of power and influence. He had heard enough of the East that any interest he might have had in it, had been completely erased.

"Adam coming back in?" Joe managed, his voice even.

Hoss shook his head. "No, he's checking the stock."

Joe slowly stood. "I'm going up to bed. It's a long day tomorrow." As he slowly climbed the stairs to the sanctuary of his room, he wished that the whole deal could be over and that his brother could bear to look at him again.  
... ... ...

...

... ... ...

He was free!

Joe felt like shouting to the heavens, as he rode away from the ranch house, alone for the first time since the shooting. The doctor had finally decided that he was healed enough to go back to work; and, though it had taken some convincing, so that Pa would let him ride the fence alone, he was finally free.

He understood that his family was worried. He tolerated it without saying a word. But the wild streak in him was just begging to be set free.

Though he was supposed to ride the fence line down in the south pasture, he couldn't resist a quick detour to a large plain, where he let Cochise have his head. He bent low over Cochise's neck, feeling the wind rush over him. He heard his hoofs beat against the ground in perfect rhythm, and knew that he never wanted this to change, he wanted everything to stay the way it was.

He didn't want Adam to leave.

He felt like Adam blamed him for the accident. He should have been watching where his brother was; he shouldn't have gotten in the way. He wished there was some way he could make it up to his brother, apologize, but he didn't know how. He also didn't know how to keep his brother from leaving the Ponderosa, to keep his brother from going back East and maybe never coming back.

He spurred Cochise to a greater speed, wanting to outrun the eternal demons. He wished that they had never gone on the wolf hunt. Theirs hadn't been the only herd, the animal had been pilfering from. They should have let one of the ranchers go after it; they should have just stayed home.

He finally reigned Cochise in and turned back toward the South pasture, his former gladness forgotten. How could he be joyful when his brother - the one he had always looked up to - was mad at him? Worse then that, Adam was going to leave; going to go back to the "refined" East.

That night, supper was a silent affair; Ben being in town at a meeting with the Town Council, and Adam hadn't come in from the fields yet.

After thanking Hop Sing for the food and turning down Hoss' offer for checkers, he headed up to his room, his body needing the sleep after weeks of recuperating. His mind had other ideas however, and his thoughts kept jumping back to Adam and the guilt that he had successfully ignored, since he started working that morning.

When sleep failed to come, he finally gave up. He eased himself out of bed and reached for his pants, on the chair next to his bed. He pulled on his boots, and quietly made his way downstairs and out to the barn.

... ... ...

...

... ... ...

_"He's gonna think that you left 'cause you were mad at him."_

The words had not only invaded his dreams the night before, they had followed him around on his day's activities, and by the time he rode up to the barn that night, Adam was exhausted.

Emotionally exhausted.

He knew better than to dismiss his brother's insight. Hoss always noticed those things that other people missed. He was also a master at reading Joe. But he didn't understand, how could Joe think that he was mad at him.

He knew that he needed to talk to his brother. He couldn't let Joe think that he left for the East because he was upset with him, when the exact opposite was true.

He dismounted and led Sport into the barn. As he reached down to start unsaddling him, he stopped. Did something just move? He looked toward the motion and realized it came from Cochise's stall.

"Joe, is that you?" The rustling grew louder and he could see the outline of his brother in the dim light. "Joe -," he started, but was cut off by his brother's voice.

"Sorry Adam, I was, ah, just checking up on Cooch. I'll go inside."  
Adam's heart twisted. Hoss was right, Joe honestly did think he was angry with him. "Joe, wait." He reached out a hand for Joe's arm.

Joe recoiled and backed away before he knew what he was doing. He caught one glimpse of Adam's ashen expression before his brother strode of the barn, dust trailing in his wake. As Joe watched the tiny particles drop aimlessly to the floor, he felt his heart sink.

He didn't mean to flinch, to back away, to act like he was scared of Adam, because he wasn't. Adam was his brother, his protector, his friend. He wasn't scared of him. He had been jumpy ever since the shooting, finding it hard to take control of his body, to control his reflexes.

Suddenly, he was so exhausted. He could feel himself trembling. He grabbed a pole to balance himself and closed his eyes; waiting for the vertigo to run its course. When he reopened his eyes he saw Sport, still standing in the middle of the barn, his saddle still on. Joe left the horse, knowing that Adam would take care of him. It was time for him to get some sleep.

... ... ...

...

... ... ...

It had been a restless night, but that didn't stop Joe from rolling out of bed at the crack of dawn. Adam was usually the first one up in the Cartwright house, but Joe knew that even he wasn't up yet. Without bothering to turn on the lantern - he had dressed enough times in the dark not to need light - he made his way quietly outside.

It only took a couple minutes to saddle up Cochise. Usually Pa gave out assignments for the day, but he still had to finish riding the south fence line looking for breaks. Usually he hated doing it, but after being cooped up in the horse for a couple weeks, he was still enjoying being out in the sunlight again.

As he worked, taking frequent breaks, the early dawn shifted into morning. As the day continued, the sun seemed to shine brighter, until Joe shed his jacket and than his shirt. The work was grueling even without the heat. What was it about fences that just cried out to be damaged anyway? It seemed that at least one Cartwright was always riding the fence line looking for breaks. Yesterday, Joe had found a particular place where a lot of the fence was down; trampled or torn down, he couldn't tell. Unfortunately, it wasn't unusual to find their fences sabotaged. The wealthy always had their share of enemies.

Though he had already been at it for hours, the fence was only half done. Joe picked up a pole and fitted it back into its hole, then filled the remaining space with dirt. He packed it down and then wiggled the pole to test its stronghold. Satisfied, he started on the next one.

He knew that lunchtime was approaching. Usually, he would have just skipped it, or had packed a lunch. But now he knew his family would think the worst if something happened to him. Reluctantly, he picked up his tools and turned around to where he had tied Cochise.  
And found himself looking straight into the barrel of a rifle.

The bearer of the weapon was not someone he recognized. His clothes were torn and filthy. His Stetson looked to be permanently planted on his head. His boots looked like they had been around for the last fifty years; the leather peeling and faded.

But Joe took all that in a glance. It wasn't the gun that caught his attention - though that made him very nervous. The last gun pointed in his direction, almost ended his life . It was his eyes. They weren't mean or evil like some Joe had seen in his time, they were desperate.

"I want everything ya got."

He was desperate, but that meant that he could more dangerous. Joe glanced to Cochise where his rifle was in his scabbard and his sidearm was hanging from his saddle.

The drifter followed his gaze. "I wouldn't." The gun moved to emphasize his point.

Joe began to panic. In his mind's eye, he was brought to the gorge with his older brother and the raving wolf.

He remembered seeing Adam's rifle pointed at him. He remembered how he had opened his mouth to yell, before feeling the bullet plow into his arm. He remembered thinking it was too late, as his body hit the ground. He had felt the weight of the wolf, and he had felt the pain, as the wolf's teeth sank unmercifully into his arm.

He felt hot, his breath felt stale in his mouth. Fear was mounting and panic was threatening to take control. He struggled to rein it in, but he kept seeing Adam's gun. He swallowed and then breathed out, trying to calm down.

He couldn't.

In desperation that mirrored what he saw in the drifter eyes, he lunged himself at the drifter with a strained yell. He briefly saw the flicker of shock in those eyes, before he felt the rifle barrel on his fingertips. He held on and pulled, feeling the butt slide from the man's hand; surprise still commanding in actions.

Joe flipped the rifle around, and slammed the butt against the man's head, then watched, as he slumped to the ground.

He swallowed, suddenly feeling nauseous. He threw the gun as hard as he could behind the unconscious drifter and then vomited onto the ground. He could feel himself trembling as his stomach purged itself, fear still lodged in his gut.

In the midst of his misery, he felt a hand curl around his forehead, he could smell his brother's cologne and he could hear his reassuring voice. All he felt was cool relief, his brother was here. Adam would take care of it, he always did. He could fix anything.

When his stomach settled, he watched as a canteen entered his vision. He drank and spit to wash the disgusting taste from his mouth. Then he drank some more, his throat feeling dry and swollen.

"Better?" Adam's voice was low and comforting.

Joe nodded, not trusting his voice. His brother's hand moved to his shoulder, but stayed in contact. Joe leaned into it, not finding the strength to move.

He had never felt fear like that before. There had been countless times when a gun was pointed at him, sometimes it had been more then one. He had even been shot a couple times, but he had never felt fear like that before. It had taken control of him, making him act out of desperation.

He suddenly realized at that moment that Adam couldn't leave him. The fear had all been the gun. It had been the fear of not having his brother around, of having to say goodbye. He needed his brother there. It had always been the four of them, working side by side, Pa building his legacy, and his three sons there to continue it. Joe never wanted that to change. He wanted his brothers at his side.

"Adam," he started, but his brother's voice cut him off.

"It's okay, Joe, everything's going to be okay."

"No!" Joe struggled to sit up, his hand grasping his Adam's sleeve. "Adam, listen to me. You can't leave. I know that you're mad at me because of what happened, and I'm sorry that I wasn't watching you. I'm sorry I stepped out in your way. I know that is my fault and I'm sorry." He barely paused to take a breath. "But please don't leave. Stay here, with us. How can the Ponderosa survive without you, Adam? She can't, Adam, she can't. She can't because we are the Ponderosa. The four of us, living together, working together, being together. Don't ruin that, please, Adam."

Adam's heart broke as he listened to his brother's pleas. He could feel his brother trembling, and he didn't think it was all from someone pointed a gun at him. Joe honestly thought that he was mad at him and everything that happened was his fault.

But it wasn't his fault.

Adam had never placed that blame on Joe. He had taken the whole blame on himself. And he would never forgive himself for what he did, but what was important that his brother did.

He looked Joe in the face, took in the sweat on his forehead, the glistening tears running down his cheeks, the raw pain in his eyes. "Joe, I never blamed you for what happened."

Joe opened his mouth to protest, but Adam put up his hand to stop him.  
"I never blamed you at all. Never. I blame myself. It was my fault." Adam once again had to stop another protest coming from Joe. "I ignored everything Pa taught us about handling a gun and that was my fault. I never blamed you and I certainly have never considered going back East, to get away from you or because I was angry with you. I haven't been angry with you at all because of what happened, Joe."

Confusion joined the pain in the hazel depths. "But why do you want to leave so badly, if you're not mad at me?"

Adam laughed hollowly. "I guess I thought that if I left, I could never hurt you again." Hearing it made it sound even worse then what it did in his head.

Joe jumped up from the ground, eyes blazing. "That's crazy Adam! It was an accident, why do you have to blame yourself for it? You were the one who saved my life. You got me home, dug the bullet out and kept my fever down. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be alive Adam and I know that! I know that you have never purposely hurt me and I'm not afraid that you will."

Joe pulled Adam up and put both hands on his brother's shoulders. "I trust you, Adam. I will always trust you with everything I own, including my life."

Adam felt a lump in his throat and he nodded. Those were the words that he had needed to hear; that after everything that happened, he was still his brother's keeper He cupped his hands behind Joe's neck and pulled him close. His brother still trusted him.

All this time, that had been what he had really been afraid of. Ben had always drilled in his sons that trust was the most important aspect of a relationship. If you didn't trust someone, you didn't have a relationship. Adam needed to hear that Joe still trusted him as his older brother, as his protector.

When they pulled apart, Adam ducked his head. He was a man that rarely needed physical contact. Now, he wasn't sure what to do. He chose what Joe seemed to normally go with - humor. "What were you doing all this time, sleeping? This fence looks like it hadn't been touched since last time I was down here."

Joe glowered good-naturally. "I was actually waiting for you to get here, Adam. I'm not going to do all the work."

"Be careful, kid, or I'll just inform Hoss that you cheat in checkers." The bantering relaxed Adam. Now this was the Joe he knew. Maybe everything could finally get back to normal.

"What are you talking about? I don't cheat, I just select the checkers that I want off the board, that's all." Joe let a smile tug at his lips, he knew that this was Adam's way of telling him that he wouldn't be leaving, that it would continue to just be the four of them, building up the Ponderosa to all her glory.  
And Joe wouldn't have it any other way.

... ... ...

...

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A/N - Thank you to Pat, for being an amazing beta reader!

This one is for you, Betty. Without you, I wouldn't be writing like I am now. I love you!


End file.
